Selfless Heart
by Passionworks
Summary: She tried to kill you, but you forgave her long ago because everyone is worth giving a chance. And you stick to that virtue, even as she seeps her last breath... Oneshot rated for character death.


Selfless Heart

By: Passionworks

You feel it creeping upon you, tearing at your flesh and eating you alive.

Perhaps it is the color of the place: a dreary, rusty scarlet. The splatters of paint and chips on stone remind you of suicide; death is all around you.

You recall that you are in a prison, a lifeless hellhole. This is where the criminals go, the ruthless slaughterers.

_Maybe even the innocent…_

Your light feet shuffle on the rocky, tarnished floor, your toes taking in each little pebble and crackle: the earthbender in you.

You see raggedy old inmates staring at you while they sweep and mop the floor beneath you. You take small glimpses at their matted, oily hair, twisted and flecked beards. They are envious of your yellow and orange garments; not a scratch or rip in sight. You see them pity themselves in their blood stained red; too much of that hideous hue around here, you think. You notice that a couple of the convicts bow down to you as if your honorable presence would free their souls from their guilty sentences. You are humbled to nod back at them, though a piece of your head whispers that they are really just mocking you. You question if these filthy creatures are Loyalists to Ozai reduced to nothing but the humiliation of slaying so many innocent lives.

You then sense a distant memory: the pain that you inflicted onto people who wished to assist you. You hear the rumbles of shaken earth in your ear, the cries of piled bodies like fresh carcasses. You see the glow heating you; the energy of all your past lives focusing on your body.

But you smile, though. It is not because masochism and mutilation are your allies, but because a wise man guided you to forgiveness. The happiness warms you, telling you that the war is over and the nations are living out the fairytales of serenity and tranquility.

But reality snaps at you, swats you, really. It reprimands you like a cold hand that spanks his children. It punishes you, yearns to ground you almost to tears.

_What of all these people?_

Do you pity them? Swallow your pride and hug them until the cries of loneliness cease to burden their troubled souls?

Or do you laugh at them? Giggle and shout in their ears that they reap what they sow?

You ignore the opposition in the cranial hemispheres and pull yourself back to shore. You seep a soothing breath. Keeping yourself calm and collected is a necessity in such a heinous place. You remind yourself that no laughter reverberates off of these walls; no smiles show off white teeth.

_No emotion at all, none._

You keep a straight face; Koh the Face Stealer could never thrive in a place like this. Too downright dull, it is. That silly little twelve year old that stepped out of a frozen iceberg would want to liven up the halls, sprinkle a little joy on top of all of the depression.

_But you are not a boy anymore; you are a man. Eighteen, in fact._

You continue your march. You seem triumphant, glorious, even. But deep inside, you do not want to be here. Here is hell, staring at you, licking your face with each roar of flame that stirs up.

But as quickly as it all begins, it ends. Your feet stop moving, your heart pounds nervously in the tubes of your ears, your blood fails you and turns you pale.

The door in front of you smiles; its teeth the steel bars that let in the minutest amounts of light in the room it swallows.

You close your eyes, shut them so tight that it literally hurts. You wait for blood to pour out of the slits, to paint your deep gray irises into a deadly crimson. Crimson like the walls. Crimson like the doors. Crimson like the tattered outfits.

_Crimson like the bodies of those who could take no more of their mundane lives._

Suicide and death live off the oxygen that the lungs house for life. The air is a poison, a toxic gas. It is dusty, terrible and quite dreadful to one who is not acquainted with its merciless presence.

_It stands out, just like you: a rainbow coexisting with the mimes of black and white._

Your firm hand grasps a knob on the door. It had been unlocked for you; the stony warden knew you were coming today. You push it forward, teeth clenching at its shrilling, obviously antiquated creak.

You take in your surroundings: quite black as opposed to the red that teases you with its lust for blood. It reminds you of a mouth, deep with no imminent end. It is lipless, but you can almost hear it laughing. Perhaps it is the sound of that pipe leaking to your left.

A stirring motion captures your gaze quickly. Your pupils dilate; you feel your heart racing, palpitating is a better word.

_A rag doll in the middle of madness is all you see._

It hurts your heart to think that this being occupying your sight is none other than the dispossessed princess that had you killed _once upon a time._

_Princess Azula…_

Her hair is full of split ends, cut quite unevenly as well. The shimmering black that it once was appears more like an elderly gray. The lipstick that had reddened her voluptuous lips is smeared across her face. She has obviously not bathed in quite a while. Her golden, gemlike eyes are terribly bloodshot and bags of sleep deprivation have formed under them. Her wicked, crooked smile is now an anguished frown, quite a horrible jump for her often-cool character.

_She is beautiful…_

_Even now._

You see that she is trembling, clawing herself like a trapped animal trying to gouge out its heart. You see that her shirt is split down the middle from her neck to her waist. You have never underestimated her strength, it impresses you. You take no interest in eyeing her feminine, topless features, for your eyes are elsewhere, caught on her bony ribs. They jut out completely, as if each individual one is a knife waiting to rip out of her skin.

You open the cage swiftly, entering hesitantly. She ceases her sporadic movements just to take a quick glance at you. She cocks her head, looking up to see that you let your hair grow. As you think about it, you do not really know why you did. Perhaps you liked that it added a bit of height to you, made you look more dignified.

But her eyes part from yours. She turns her back to you, beginning to have a coughing fit. The fist that covers her mouth is drenched in her blood. You take note at her lack of a reaction because it surprises you, scares you too.

Her body shivers again. It is quite uncontrolled, violent, ravenous. You almost want to call it feral, though you yourself always found it very difficult to find the faults in your enemies. The monks had taught you well: all life is sacred, everyone has a story that is worth listening to.

_Even the sinister demon that bathed in your exposed blood and lapped up your shock and revelation in death is worth a minute of your time. _

Something clicks like a lit fuse. You sit down next to her tormented figure. You do not know if she will attack you, try to strangle you for all that you did to her in the past. You set these distracting fears aside as she begins to calm herself in your presence. She wipes a dirty hand across her face. Perhaps she is attempting to look good for you. This has not the desired effect, for her face blackens a bit. She takes in her failure, sulking her head in response to it. She then crawls into a corner and cuddles herself into a fetal position.

You swallow. The sound is quite loud to you, and it seems to break the glass-like silence.

You want to slap yourself, to break down right in front of her, to beg and free her from the binds of hell.

_But you do not._

_You cannot, really._

It shames you, but you remember that the unified nations are only about five years old, a little more than that, by a slight stretch, of course. They are barely infants, still struggling to walk without parental guidance. You feel assured that Firelord Zuko hosts his nation well. One less thing to deal with.

The princess begins to shake compulsively, a seizure gripping her firmly. You shed a single tear at this. It leaves a cold streak down your face. You rub it away, but your eyes never leave the girl.

You place a hand on her nearly exposed shoulder; her episodes have caused her to almost shred her shirt completely. You caress it fondly, her emaciation setting in. You hate to think that she was once an agile athlete, a master of her element. Her blue fire is gone, her drive as well. The mental torment has disturbed the peace of mind with the bending of lightning too.

_She has lost so many things in her life._

_And she is about to lose one more…_

You lay your body next to hers and you envelope her frame into your strong, muscular arms. Your hands rest dangerously close to her breasts, but you do not explore beyond them.

She suddenly snaps out of the seizure at your gesture. You can see that she has trouble reacting to this simple act of affection. A genuine smile has always been a chore for her, even before her downfall.

_But she does it, just for you._

_Only you…_

Your eyes take in hers. They are mesmerizing like gold itself, but worth a whole lot more. You arch your neck slowly. She mimics you like a fawning servant.

And suddenly like shattered ice, your lips meet hers. You can taste her dry blood but you ignore it for the sake of your passionate heart. Once the hold detaches, you do not know why you kissed her: the heat of the moment, you assume.

But then you feel it happening. You feel her soul banging against her ribcage like an imprisoned bird, the phoenix of the Fire Nation.

_You know she feels it too, always has._

You see her cry, the tears pitter onto the ground. You take a thumb and dab them away in a paternal fashion.

She looks at you longingly, placing her hand into yours. You note the jagged cracks in her once perfect nails, but you do nothing to depict this disturbance.

Her body tenses harshly as she loses control of herself again. You squeeze her tight, whispering soft little lullabies in her ear. You cup her shaking chin and kiss her on the mouth one last time. You hold her until you hear the final heartbeat, the final breath.

Your body gracefully glows, marking your entry into the Spirit World. You wish not to let the princess depart unaided so you hold her hand for as long as you can.

The next thing you know, you see her warm face grinning at you. Her hair is perfect and black again. Her robes are pristine and royal, symbolic to her bloodline. She hugs you in a tender embrace and she takes one last look into your eyes. They are lively like honey, rich and full of prideful hope. You feel her lips kiss you again, a token of appreciation for your guidance.

Then you lose the touch of her skin, you lose grip of her beautiful hand.

And she departs this world…

Never alone…

Because _only you_ cared to see her till her fateful end.

_Only you…_

_Only you._


End file.
